


Hanahaki

by JessieCade



Category: The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, natsby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieCade/pseuds/JessieCade
Summary: Nick's been in love with Jay Gatsby ever since they've met and he continues falling, painfully, in love. Believing Gatsby is still in love with Daisy, Nick develops a sickness that almost leads to his death until the blonde beauty comes to talk some sense into him.





	Hanahaki

The explosion of fireworks behind that magnificent smile had snagged his heart.

The wind behind his hair as the car sped down the highway, the determination in his features to get what was rightfully his or what he wanted, just- _everything_ about him made Nick Carraway fall in love. It was love at first sight, but of course he hadn’t realized that until the first signs of sickness struck him. Love sickness, was it? Love wasn’t supposed to hurt or, in time, kill you. But it was the only way it could be described.

The thick, soft petals pushing their way up his throat and the pointy, knife-like thorns pressing against his organs made love difficult to understand. He had gone to a doctor about it, but was only told to ‘stop eating roses’. Of course he didn’t eat them, that’d be ridiculous, but the doctors wouldn’t help. Thus, he was alone.

It didn’t happen at once. It was gradual, first happening as the thought of ‘oh, he wouldn’t like me back’ came to him the first time. He coughed up a soft, pink rose petal which held the same color as Gatsby’s favorite suit, but he thought nothing of it. That was, until it seemed that every time he coughed a petal would appear. Then came the coughing fits strong enough to make him need to sit, almost fall as he tried to breathe. 

Spots of blood painted the petals, signifying the hopelessness Nick felt that Gatsby would _ever_ want to be with _him_. It was all about _Daisy, Daisy, Daisy!_

He helped the man try to woo over his cousin, though, because it seemed the only relief from his sickness was seeing him smile and, at least, appear genuinely happy. _He_ made Gatsby happy, at least sometimes, and that’s what was important. That he could be there for him when he needed him. 

He did research into his sickness.

Disease.

It was rare, almost unheard of. He found one account of it, in a fictional story about a princess falling in love with a prince, but she had died before professing her love. Soon after, he had died of the same disease. They had never found out about the other’s feelings.

Fear gripped Nick’s heart. He could _die_.

He _will_ die.

After weeks of avoiding phone calls and conversations, claiming it’s because he’s been ‘busy’, ‘tired’, or simply just ‘unable’, Gatsby found himself tired of Nick ignoring him and made his way to the Carraway residence. He reached for the door knob first, out of habit, but quickly decided to knock instead. He let himself in, though, when there wasn’t an answer and froze in the doorway when his eyes landed on the sea of red and pink petals covering the living room floor. 

His heart _sank_. 

Clearing his throat and adjusting his tie, Gatsby walked through the petals and desolate sitting room and walked straight toward Nick’s room. He entered immediately, worry building in him at an alarming rate, and his eyes immediately feasted on the sight of Nick’s pale, unmoving body sleeping in his bed. Rose petals scattered around the top of the blanket and bedside the bed, a small trash can filled to the brim with them by the bedside table. 

Hurriedly, Gatsby rushed over to him, waking him up with the intention of asking for an explanation, but before he could get a word out, Nick was thrown into another coughing fit. Gatsby helped him sit up, removing the blanket as if it would help, and to his terror every petal that Nick spat out was covered in blood.

Nick blushed furiously.

“Jay, what are you doing here?”

“I was coming to give you a piece of my mind, to tell you the truth,” Gatsby admitted, brushing piles of petals onto the floor, “but I see that wouldn’t be very adequate.” He changed the subject. “Nick, what is this?”

Nick’s heart fluttered at the sound of his name, but that fluttering was quickly replaced with a sharp ache and he forced back a cough.

“I’ve been… sick…” was all Nick could muster as an explanation, but Gatsby frowned and shook his head, suddenly taking Nick’s hands in his own and forcing him to make eye-contact.

“Old sport, you look like you’re dying- who’s done this to you?”

Nick searched Gatsby’s eyes nervously, a film of sweat layering his forehead, and he swallowed as the pain in his heart became unbearable. He sputtered once, a few petals flying out, and he shook his head as he pushed himself out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. Gatsby followed in suit, about to question him further when the bathroom door was slammed in his face and the gut-wrenching sound of Nick puking into his toilet filled the air.

Gatsby, not standing to wait, forced open the door and pulled something out of his pocket to show Nick.

A single, baby-blue petal.

Nick’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

His conclusion: “I’ve been hurting you.”

Gatsby shook his head and dropped to his knees, pulling Nick close into a loving, tight embrace. Nick hugged him back automatically, burying his face in the crook of Gatsby’s neck and fighting the urge to tear up; he didn’t want to be weaker than he already was. But after a second, Gatsby’s body began to shake in his and he pulled back to see tears in the man’s eyes.

“I was killing you,” Gatsby managed, wiping his cheeks and drawing in a deep breath in a way to pretend he wasn’t just sobbing, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“You… you love Daisy-”

“I _loved_ Daisy,” Gatsby corrected, “but Nick, old sport- I simply couldn’t _live_ without you- what makes you think you can die on me?”

Through the seriousness of the situation, this small, sincere comment had actually made Nick _laugh_. Not because it was funny, but relief had actually flooded him and it felt so _good_ to actually know Gatsby felt the same and to finally have him know what’s been wrong.   
Without a second thought, Nick lunged forward and kissed him, his arms wrapping around his neck, and Gatsby felt his first real smile in a while creep on his face as he kissed Nick back. Finally.


End file.
